TimeTravelling
by singlemaltscotch
Summary: Owen and Cristina's marriage seems to be over, for Owen cannot forgive her that she aborted his child - but then Owen begins to see and experience things that he would have never believed to be possible. He soon realises that he is traveling through time.
1. Safe Time-Travels!

**PLOT. **This FF starts in season 8 in the night of Owen's cheating. However, things turn out very differently!

**NOTE. **English is NOT my first language! I apologise for every mistake I might make. If someone would like to BETA I'd be really very thankful! If German is your first language please check out the German version of this FF. Enjoy :)

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**SAFE TIME-TRAVELS!**

**PRESENT, 01. APRIL 2012, EVENING**

Owen looked at the woman sitting next to him on a bar stool. She had a slender figure. She was pretty and blonde. She was kind to him and she had a beautiful, warming laugh that tried to make him do what he did so seldomly lately: raising a smile. He had already forgotten her name, and he could not even say whether she had at all told him what it was. She had curls of the kind he liked so much on Cristina, but she was not Cristina. She listened. She hung on every word he spoke. She was truly interested in what he had to say. It felt good not to be invisible for once.

The two of them were at Joe's Bar. She had promised to buy him a drink for the great work he had accomplished today. His glass, however, stood untouched in front of him on the counter while hers was almost fully emptied. Owen feared that if he got drunk now, he would do something he would never be able to forgive himself. He was not stupid. He knew that she had taken a shine to him. She flirted with him, and he flirted back awkwardly. He just wanted to be seen and heard like that for a little while longer. That was why he did what he did, and that also was the apology he tried to silence his conscience with. It did not work.

"It's getting late", he, therefore, addressed the blonde abruptly as he rose from his seat. "I should go."

"Oh", the woman seemed disappointed but she did not surrender so easily. Soon she stood upright as well: "I should go, too."

It, thus, so happened, that both slipped over their jackets to brace themselves for the unpredictable April-weather, and, then, they walked together through the door of the bar and stepped out into the cool night. Wandering next to each other they were slowly leaving the dark alley behind and reaching the main street. He kept his distance whereas she sought closeness to him, and as they paused in their walk to say their goodbyes she attempted to kiss him.

"I'm married", Owen took one step back from her. He did not look at her anymore, but only to the ground at his feet. He felt guilty for the short moment he had considered granting his acquaintance her wish and not stopping her. He missed intimacy. Yet, he missed Cristina more than that. He lifted his glance up again and called a taxi for the woman because he was a gentleman, and he explained that he would rather go on foot when she invited him to share the pay and as such the car. Before she left she planted one kiss and a smile on his cheek. That was okay even though it did not touch him in the way he wished it had.

Owen did not want to go home right away – he could not do it. He just could not return to the silence standing tangible between him and his wife. He turned round and treaded the path he had come from back to the bar to have, now, that he was alone, the drink he had despised before. Only after a few steps, however, his heart was suddenly thumping wildly as if he had strained it too much. His hands were trembling, and his head was filled with voices he should not be able to hear. Then his legs were incapable of carrying his body any longer. He did not find hold on the wall to his left, and he slipped down the stones and to the ground right where he once had been so close to Cristina. He was unable to breathe. Everything went black.

* * *

**FUTURE , 14. OCTOBER 2016, NIGHT**

It was warm but it was still black around him. Confused Owen felt with his hands for the floor which had a different touch to it than the asphalt he had been kneeling on moments ago. He carefully rose to his feet as soon as he was sure that his legs would carry him effortlessly. He heard the voices again. When he attempted to reach out for the wall behind him, it was gone. Instead, he only grasped at air, and he would have fallen through it had he not, in the right moment, gotten hold of the handle of the door. A door? Why a door? Slowly he opened it, and he stepped towards a white light that blinded him for a minute. Then he could see again but he was yet precarious whether he could place his trust in this newly clear sight. He was standing in the hallway of the hospital whose chief of surgery he was. Doctors and nurses rushed past him, a ringing telephone demanded attention, someone called his name, but that could not be. Nothing of all that could be. He was not here. He could not be here.

"Owen!", he, nevertheless, heard his name again, and by the sound of her voice he identified the caller as Meredith Grey. "Owen!"

His thoughts tumbled in his head as he turned to face his approaching colleague. The first thing he noticed about her was the dark-blue scrubs that were normally reserved for surgeons in the attending position. The second thing was her smile with which she came to him. It was an honest smile and it was really intended for him.

"We were looking everywhere for you!", explained Meredith her intentions with a glint in her eye. Then she did something utterly remarkable: she put her arms around him. She let go of him when saying the following: "It's time!"

"Time?", asked Owen amazed by her cordiality. He actually thought it possible that she had lost her mind, or, when looking at the picture as a whole, that he had lost his. "Time for what?"

"For the baby", retorted Dr. Grey as if it was a part of common knowledge. She saw the look on his face and appeared to assume that it displayed his worry caused by her words: "It's just a little bit early but it'll be fine."

Baby. Had someone assigned him a surgery without his knowing? But how had he come here? Had he been drinking? Had he been drinking _too much_? His head hurt and he had obviously lost his memories of what had probably been a few hours – 'yes', therefore, seemed to be an answer standing to reason. He numbly followed Meredith through the halls of the hospital. He had to tell her that he could not operate like that. He should not be bearing this kind of responsibility in the state he was currently in.

When he attempted to speak his mind, though, their journey came to an end in front of a door behind which he heard the unmistakable voice of his wife very loud and clear: "I'm going to say this one last time, Karev! Keep. Your. Hands. Off. My. Vagina!"

Startled, Owen shot a glance at Meredith who simply stepped aside and signalised him to enter: "She's all yours."

So he entered and froze, while the door fell shut behind him. What he saw now was nothing he had expected to see. There were nurses present. One of them noticed him and nodded in a kindly, encouraging way. The others were too occupied attending to their bad-tempered patient: Cristina Yang was sitting on the only bed in the room, and commanding here and there how this and that should be done better. She was clad in a gown of the hospital. She was beautiful and hugely pregnant. Alex Karev was standing in front of her and with his back to Dr. Hunt.

"I explained this to you at least a hundred times", Karev spoke up, slightly annoyed. It seemed as if he had been leading the same discussion for a long time without any noticeable success. "I'm the only available OB right now. So, either you let me deliver this baby, or you do it yourself."

„Well, I want Montgomery", retorted Cristina defiantly snappish. "I want the best there is! I cannot believe this is happening! I've had a plan. Just one week! A first-class surgeon would have been flying in from LA in one week, but no: now I'm stuck here in second class because . . ." She stopped mid-sentence for she registered her husband still standing a few steps away from her and unable to move. "Owen! Where have you been?", she instantly directed her anger accusingly towards him. "You knock me up and then you leave when I tell you that I'm in labour? What is wrong with you?"

Alex turned round and raised his brows asking for help. Owen, however, remained frozen and could only stare. He now was certain that he was dreaming. This was not real. His reality had an entirely different look to it and it hurt, especially now, that he saw what could have been but was not. He did not want to see it. He did not want to be here anymore. It was too warm and he could not breathe. He tugged at his tie to loosen it around his neck and explained a bit shakily: "I can't do this right now."

"_You _can't do this right now?", snorted Cristina. "_I'm_ the one in labour." She abruptly fell silent for a moment, closed her eyes and took one deep breath as a sharp pain passed through her abdomen. When she opened her lids again, she shot a furious glance at Dr. Hunt and continued in utter disbelief: "Did you change your _clothes_?"

"Dude", said Karev, shaking his head. "Really?"

Owen did not answer but the realisation of his wife being hurt led him to step forward and stand at her side without further contemplation. He took her hand just as she searched for his. He had to remind himself that he was still dreaming because suddenly everything around him was so real, so _there_, and _so_ true. He wished for it to be true.

"Alright", announced Alex after a quick examination. "Are you ready? The baby sure is."

"No", Cristina's anger was suddenly gone and replaced by . . . Panic? Fear? "I'm not ready. I'm not a mother. This baby has to wait. It has to wait. Just one more week. This is not right."

"But it is", interrupted Owen gently her stream of words, because, even if it was not real, he still wanted to see it and hold it just once in his arms. "It is right. It is _so_ right."

"You cannot disappear like that anymore", his wife had again found back to her strong and determining tone. "I can't do this without you. You have to promise me . . ."

"I promise", he said quickly although he did not know what she meant, or what exactly his promise was about. "I'm here. I'm staying."

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**PRESENT, 01. APRIL 2012, EVENING**

It had been a long day, and Cristina had spent it deciding whether she should be ignoring Owen or spying on him. In the end her decision, however, had not been made by her but by Meredith who had become suspicious of her behaviour, and by Altman demanding her assistance for an important surgery. As Dr. Yang was now turning her key in the lock to open the door, she was unsure of what to expect when entering the flat. Would he be there? If yes, would he say a word to her? Or three, like: I love you? Did he love her? Did he hate her? She missed him and she missed knowing him, and his thoughts and feelings. She missed intimacy.

The lights were out. Also after switching them on for illumination Owen was still nowhere to be found. While she was trying to determine if it was appropriate to feel relieved, Cristina took her jacket off her shoulders and her shoes off her feet when she suddenly heard a noise coming from the bathroom. She froze, and then she heard it again. She lifted a pan at its handle from the kitchen counter and slowly dared to advance it – whatever it was that was hiding from her. She could not risk displaying her fear as it would have only countered the courage she needed to keep. When she arrived at her aim, she raised her weapon, held it ready and laid a hand on the handle of the door which she then pushed quickly and unexpectedly open. It noisily hit something hard.

"Ouch", protested a familiar voice behind it.

"Oh", Cristina switched on the bathroom lights in astonishment. "Owen? I'm sorry. I thought you were. . ."

". . .a burglar", ended Dr. Hunt the sentence for her in a strangely nasal voice. Hesitantly, he stepped forward, so that she could see that it was truly him. A towel wrapped around his waist was all he was wearing, but the red blood running down his pale face effectively distracted from his bare physique. "I think you broke my nose."**  
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**FUTURE, 14. OCTOBER 2016, NIGHT**

Exhausted, Cristina had slipped into a well-deserved sleep. Her dark, curled hair laid spread out on the pillow in a sharp contrast to the white colour of its cover. Owen, who feared that he would awake in his real world if he would close his eyes, held their daughter safely in his arms and carefully pressed to his chest because she liked hearing his heart beat. She was little. She was warm, she was alive and healthy, and she was perfect. She was everything she should be, and she was his, even if it was just for the moment of his dream. He knew that he was happy because he remembered again how to raise a smile. Cradling his child he walked around the room. He kissed its velvet head and breathed its sweet scent for later, when he would miss it. Then he began to quietly and contently hum a lullaby.

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**END NOTE.** I really hope it was readable! Let me know what you think :) I'd love to read your thoughts x


	2. Strangers?

**THANK YOU** so much for your kind reviews! I think I've never had so many for one chapter. Glad you like it (:

**STRANGERS?**

**PRESENT, 01. APRIL 2012, NIGHT**

Cristina stood as a silent observer caught up in her thoughts at the window through which she could see into the room behind it. She fastened her eyes at Callie Torres, scrutinising every action she took while tending for Owen. She struggled to give names to her feelings but she did not know how. That was why she was not at his side right now. That, and, also, because of this one moment when they had been sitting in the car waiting for a green light, and she had given him her attention thinking that he had become a stranger to her: Her estranged husband.

"I thought you'd gone home?", Meredith Grey had suddenly come up to her and surprised Dr. Yang with her words and her presence. With a pen she wrote down a few notes in an opened patient's chart that she held firmly in her hands. She was busy but she made time for Cristina. As she was not receiving any form of a reply, she raised her glance that then fell upon Owen behind the glass. She began to form a wondering question: "What . . .?

"I broke his nose", explained Cristina without further ceremony. She took no pride in what she had done but she was not ashamed, too. Truth be told, she was even glad that she had done something else with Owen but shouting at him. It was unfortunate that blood had to be shed in the process; however, it served its purpose rather successfully nonetheless.

"You broke his nose", repeated Meredith confirming her friend's proposition – the state of evidence was clear enough for that. She closed the chart and turned to the other twisted sister with a growing interest. "Ok, why did you break his nose? Did you have a fight?"

"All the time, but that was not why", retorted Dr. Yang who was unable to take her eyes off Dr. Hunt. "He was in the bathroom and I hit him with the door. I thought he was a burglar or something." She shrugged her shoulders attempting a half-hearted apology: "The lights were out. Who takes a shower in the dark?" This question was of rhetorical nature, the following that she spoke in great hesitation was not: "When you look at him . . . Does he seem any different to you?"

"Well", Dr. Grey directed a quick glance at Dr. Hunt's slightly swollen features. "His nose _is_ broken."

"That's not what I meant", countered Cristina suddenly impatient. She was angry, then she was not anymore but only confused instead. She saw Owen but she did not really see him. She saw a stranger who once had been Owen but whom he no longer resembled in any way.

**FUTURE, 15. OCTOBER 2016, MORNING**

As Owen awoke from his sleep he instantly knew that he was still dreaming because his glance fell, first of all, upon Alice, his daughter. She was sleeping in her own little bed next to the chair that he had placed beside her so that she would be the last thing that he saw when he closed his eyes. He had not expected to see her again. He sat still for a moment watching the constant rising and falling of her small chest, inside which a small heart beat to the rhythm of her young life. He could have stayed like that forever, had not Cristina chosen to disagree.

"You're awake", she stated, and Dr. Hunt immediately turned to her in surprise.

She had already exchanged her hospital gown for everyday clothes and was now stowing various toiletry products in a bag lying on the bed which she obviously planned to leave behind in its mess. Owen silently observed her work with interest. She seemed different. She looked at him and he could detect a slight anger in her dark eyes but also something else – something that he had missed for so long. He was not able to name it yet, but it was kind, warm and familiar. It was something that he so desperately needed.

"_They_ will be here any moment now", stressed Dr. Yang while closing the bag. She spoke in a tone that suggested that disaster was on its way. "So: let's go!"

"They?", echoed Dr. Hunt bewildered. What kind of monsters could that be? He rose slowly to his feet. His body was stiff and his head ached. He heard voices approaching the door from outside. Someone knocked.

Cristina sighed heavily: „Maybe they'll leave if we keep quite. Maybe they'll think nobody's here."

"We can hear you, Cristina!", not awaiting an official invitation Callie Torres already stepped into the room with her wife and the Shepherds following close behind.

Eyes searched for and found to the sleeping baby girl, and the following exchange of words was, therefore, held in a varying whisper to not disturb the child's rest:

"She's super cute", beamed Arizona Robbins who was the first to approach the newborn in its crib. "Daddy and Mummy must be _so_ happy that you're here."

"I am not a Mum_my_", interrupted Cristina fast and indignantly the general delight.

She had abruptly engaged everyone's undivided attention in the wake of her remark. Owen, who had just received Derek's well wishes with a friendly slap on the back, was especially concerned. He examined his wife in an effort to determine whether she was unhappy, and whether she hated him right now. He was unsure what to expect from her because he did not know this Cristina. He did not know every turn of her life. He could not even at all surmise why she had decided to carry his child. When his eyes met hers, however, she surprised him with an apology lying in her glance.

"I am a Mum", she said with a contentedness in her voice that she could not fully disguise. Her words were accompanied by a thankful smile that lighted up her husband's face. Then she turned defiantly back to Dr. Robbins: "But I'm not a Mum_my_."

"Ok, _Mum_", attempted Callie to loosen the tension hovering between them with a laugh.

"Have _you_ spent the last ten months inside my uterus?", enquired Yang snappishly. "I have a name. Use it."

"Don't worry little one, _Mum _is just a little tired", confided Arizona, who felt guilty, to the baby.

"She can be nice, too", assured Torres who now bent over the crib as well, though at the moment she herself did not seem too convinced of her own promise. When Alice appeared to gradually find her way out of the land of sleep, Callie felt obliged to put the others on guard: "She's waking up!"

"Too many people?", assumed Cristina angrily but she was deliberately ignored this time

"She's not crying. Not yet!", observed Meredith cheerfully. She held up the camera that she had, until now, kept hidden in her right coat pocket. "Perfect moment for a picture."

"No", protested Dr. Yang shooting an accusatory glance at her best friend. "Meredith!"

"Come on", urged Dr. Grey. She gave Owen a subtle nod as if they had a secret that they shared only between the two of them. "You'll thank me later for it."

Cristina hesitated, and was thus responsible for Owen feeling nervous again. Would she now realise that she had made a mistake? Would it yet again all come to an end? Would he loose again? Then his wife stepped towards the baby and as she picked their daughter up from her bed to hold her in her arms he knew that everything would be ok. He came up to her. He was numb from the unusual sight that met his eyes. He stood next to her and put one arm around her body. There was no wall separating them anymore. He lightly kissed her hair because he could not resist. He was thankful for this moment though it was only alive in his dream.

"Ok, say: family!", rejoiced Arizona happily. One look at Cristina, however, led to a rather rueful retreat: "Or . . . not."

Owen and Cristina did not need instructions. They did not need words. All their uncertainties were forgotten. This was it: This was the huge life he had imagined for them. They knew that, and that was why they smiled.

"One, two, . . . three", counted Meredith before releasing the shutter.

**PRESENT, 01. APRIL 2012, NIGHT**

Cristina followed Owen through the door and into their flat. She stood still and watched him intently. It was not only the expression he wore on his face and the encrypted message he held in his eyes that seemed strange, but he also treaded their home in a different way. When he walked into the kitchen and took a glass out of a cupboard she could see that his posture had straightened. His steps were taken with more certainty. He did not hesitate anymore in his movement and his actions. He appeared content and at home, and that was something that only made his wife feel like an intruder. _She_ still walked with a stoop due to the burden that her marriage had become. _She_ still took her steps with caution so that they would not cross path with his. _She_ did not know how she should move and act around him. _She_ was not at home.

"So, since when do you enjoy showering in the dark?", Cristina finally broke the silence standing between them. She tried to hide her uncertainty as she did not want him to notice how much she envied his new old self. She was searching for that fight that he seemed to have forgotten. _She_ still was angry at him.

"Oh that. . .", Dr. Hunt turned round and towards her in surprise, and he thought a bit too long about what answer would be the right one to give to her question. Then a glint could be seen in his eye as he smiled, and he was even a little amused when he spoke while pouring himself some orange juice. "Broken light bulb."

"Are you making fun of me?", took Dr. Yang rather indignantly the happiness from his face.

"No", said Owen quickly. As he wanted to place the juice box back into the refrigerator, his glance fell upon the calendar hanging there. He froze and saw the year, and all of the sudden his movements were less strange and more like they used to be. He was sad: "No, I'm not."

Cristina almost regretted the words she had said before. She was suddenly very tired and she went over to the sofa and sat down with her back turned to him. Of course it had to be her who was taking away his happiness again, but who had given it to him so unexpectedly today? She raked one hand through her curled, black hair and collected her thoughts.

"Who is it?", she asked. She had to know. She wanted to know everything about this happiness, and then she wanted to rest, regardless of the pain that this rest might bring. She did not like that her voice was trembling: "Is it someone I know?"

"What do you mean?", Owen sounded confused. When he came to her and sat down beside her he was no longer holding a glass in his hands but instead reached out with them for hers. She, though, did not let him get her, and left him waiting in his concern for a while.

Then Cristina looked directly at him so that she would not miss any lies he might tell. The tears running down her face took her by surprise but she had no control: "The woman you're sleeping with. Who is she?"

"Cristina. . .", began Owen, and he shook his head. He did not want to see her cry.

"You haven't been home lately. We don't talk. We don't. . .", he was cut short by his wife before she cut herself. "So, who is it? Who makes you happy?"

"You", replied Owen without hesitation. This time he caught hold of her hands. "Only you, Cristina."

"I don't believe you", she doubted him but she let him touch her now because it was good to know that he was there.

"I know", He nodded before promising in the same breath: "But you will."

"Look at me", he demanded softly.

So she did, and then she discovered it in his blue, honest eyes: This feeling that she had missed for so long. She knew now that everything would be ok, just like she used to whenever he was looking at her in that way. That was what she found in his eyes. Fearing that this feeling would not last forever, she greedily reached out for it: she took his face between her hands, framing it with them. She bent towards him and kissed his lips. She breathed him. She wanted more.

"Don't", she was suddenly retained by Owen. He regretted his words as soon as he spoke them aloud but he knew that he chose them right. "I can't do this _now_. I'm sorry"

It hurt as he let go of her. He rose to his feet and she watched him doing so from below. She could not say whether she was angry, but she did not want him to escape her without explaining why.

"Where are you going?", she asked as he walked towards the door and opened it.

"Milk", he chose a random excuse. Time was short. He already heard other voices and saw other things. "We ran out of it."

Cristina simply nodded although she did not understand. She would not beg him to stay. She still had her pride that she planned to keep.

"Remember: No matter what happens, I will always love you and I will always come back to you", she heard him say.

After that he stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

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**END NOTE. **I struggled a bit with the translation of the last part. I hope it's not too noticeable. (Like I said: Betas are always welcome to offer their help ;-)) Again I'd like to read your thoughts (: Hope you liked it x


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